


Ghost Story

by KillTheDirector



Series: Alternative Universe - Gender Changes [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, captain america: the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Captain America and then Winter Soldier!Bucky, Community: capkinkmeme, F/M, Healing, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Slow Burn, female!Steve, protective but bordering on possessive Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 16,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5335958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillTheDirector/pseuds/KillTheDirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've began to spread rumors about him; about the man with the metal arm and ghosts in his eyes. The camps always leave a space for him, even if he never shows up. "Outta respect." They say, scared to cross the man who stinks of death.</p><p>He visited museums and tombs, memories shrouded in the nostalgic glow of sepia buzzing in his brain. When he visited the Smithsonian, he was shocked to see his own face staring back from a display mural, commemorating the "Brave and loyal Captain America" (and he found it funny because he was actually a Sergeant; he supposed it didn't really sound too good paired with America).</p><p>Maybe he wanted to let his handlers find him, give him the Ice or maybe a bullet to the head so he doesn't have to deal with anything anymore...but then wet coughing reaches his ears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

New York's winters are brutal, he remembers with a bit of fondness; the snow is a thick blanket cushioning everything in a sort of picaresque glow. He ignores the grime that sticks to the edges of the streets, and the hordes of bums that line the alleyways he takes refuge in. 

They've began to spread rumors about him; about the man with the metal arm and ghosts in his eyes. The camps always leave a space for him, even if he never shows up. "Outta respect." They say, scared to cross the man who stinks of death. 

He's huddled beside a dumpster that's overfull, flesh arm wrapped tightly around his knees whilst the metal tries over and over to reboot. The last mission, the unsuccessful take over of Project Insight (the one he's not supposed to think about, but there's a voice in his mind that screams for rebellion) had ended with the Arm being damaged. 

He should go back to his handlers, let them fix and wipe him (or put a bullet in his head and let him finally be done with this). The voice had whispered for him to run, and for some reason he had obeyed. 

For weeks he laid low in Washington DC, watching _them_ scramble to rebuild; those loyal to SHIELD, however, were quicker to recover. 

He visited museums and tombs, memories shrouded in the nostalgic glow of sepia buzzing in his brain. (Though the painful ones clouded his mind at night, sending him into fits. He then decided he didn't need to sleep). When he visited the Smithsonian, he was shocked to see his own face staring back from a display mural, commemorating the "Brave and loyal Captain America" (and he found it funny because he was actually a Sergeant; he supposed it didn't really sound too good paired with America). 

He found his name, _James Buchanan Barnes. MIA 1943._ It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and so he left not feeling as if he found himself. 

His fee had brought him to New York, to Brooklyn. The buildings were different, the people like ice, but he felt like he was home.


	2. Chapter 2

His head is buzzing, mind foggy one moment and sharpening to clear focus the next. His skin is prickled in goosebumps, the cold he doesn't really feel anymore after years and years being put in cyro. His stomach claws at the inside of his body, gurgling with hunger that he ignores. 

He chews on the inside of his cheek to try and distract himself from the cold, ignoring how The Arm keeps seizing up every time he tries to move it. HYDRA (or was is SHIELD) are looking for him, and something tells him that when they find him, they won't be too kind.

The sound of someone letting out a wet cough rattles him out of his brooding, and he shifts more into the shadow cast by the dumpster; The Arm gives a rather painful sounding groan, which causes the person who's attempting to toss their garbage into the dumpster to look up. 

A rather skinny girl (he briefly thinks that she can't be any more than 17) stares at him for a few seconds. Her arm is shaking with the effort to hold the bag of garbage, and he can hear a soft wheezing sound coming from her slightly parted lips. 

They stare at one another before The Arm groans again, sounding like dying machinery and making him wince. The girl sets the bag down, taking a small step closer to him. "Hey buddy, d'ya need help?" 

He tries not to growl at her like some sort of cornered animal, remembering that normal people don't do that; instead, he narrows his eyes and tries to press himself tighter against the scratchy brick wall. 

The girl stops, huffs and then picks up the bag of garbage again. He watches as she uses her entire body's weight to sling the bag into the dumpster, and turns on her heel to walk away. Some part of him feels slightly disappointed at her departure, but he pushes the feeling away and tries to keep The Arm from whirring any louder. 

The smell of cinnamon shoved practically under his nose causes him to snap his head up, flesh hand going for a knife until he sees that it's the girl. She's holding a mug of something (apple cider his brain supplies) an arms length away; he spies something else in her other hand, a warm looking knit cap clenched in her skinny fingers. 

He eyes the mug of cider warily, gaze meeting hers for a moment before she lets a small smile curl the edges of her mouth. "You look cold." She states simply, raising an eyebrow and tilting her head toward the mug. "It ain't poisoned." 

He allows his flesh hand to reach out and grab the mug, fingertips practically singing with the warmth as it seeps into his skin. He holds the small mug (printed with classic cartoon characters he can vaguely remember seeing in the theaters) close to his chest, trying to soak the warmth in. 

"Thank...you." He says stiltedly, voice cracked and rumbling in his throat. 

He looks up at the girl from behind a curtain of his dark hair, watching as she shifts from one foot to the other, shrugging a thin shoulder as if being kind to strangers was something everyone did. ( _They don't_. He thinks sourly, _Who is this girl, and what does she want?_ ). 

"No problem; I figured you could use a pick-me-up." She holds up the knit cap and offers it to him just as she did with the mug of cider, at arms length. "You can have this, if you want. My neighbor makes me a ton of them every year, and I'm sure she wouldn't mind if I gave one to someone in need." 

He places the mug down, not sure if The Arm would fail again and end up killing the girl; he feels the soft wool between his newly warmed fingers, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek. He pulls the hat over his head, humming quietly in approval, and picks the mug up again to drain it. 

Cinnamon and sugar explode over his tongue, and his stomach flips and nearly howls for food. He swallows thickly, hand clenching around the mug and teeth grinding together. The girl stares at him with wide eyes (and they're so _blue_ that he feels like he's looking at a clear summer sky); she bites at her lip, skinny fingers tugging at her coat sleeves. 

"How long...how long has it been since you last ate?" 

He mulls the question over in his mind, brain going foggy at the edges before he comes to a conclusion. "Two weeks." Her expression is a mixture of horror and awe, and he's confused as to why that could be. 

She shakes her head, "How about we get you something to eat." It isn't a question, and he feels himself prickle at that; he had just gotten away from those that gave orders, he didn't need some girl doing the same as they.

"I don't need your pity." He wants to throw the mug at her, but he finds the cartoon characters charming; instead he sets it on the snowy ground and crosses his arm across his chest, hand settling against cold metal. 

She heaves out a sigh that turns into a coughing fit, her thin shoulders moving up and down as she struggles to breathe. Alarm surges in him, but he smothers the feeling down and simply stares at her as she finally gets her breathing under control. "It ain't pity, I'm just trying to be a decent human being." 

He wants to laugh at that, say that he isn't a human being (and if he is, then he's not one worth her time), but he holds his tongue as she squats to his level and offers her hand. "My name is Stephanie Rogers, but you can call me Steve."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting this up on AO3 because it'll be easier for people to track and easier for me to update.


	3. Chapter 3

The man sitting across from her is hunched over, one hand wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee while the other is pressed against his chest at an odd angle. 

Steve orders a large plate of pancakes for the man, watching as his eyes flicker over to the waiter and the grip on his coffee mug tightens ever so slightly; he returns his gaze to the brew, shoulders hunched and hair obscuring his face.

It was probably a bad idea bringing this man here, Steve thinks, but soon shoves the thought out of her mind. No matter what, her mother had said always try to treat others with kindness, and this man looked as if the world had taken a huge chunk and spit him right out. 

"Um, you never gave me your name...?" Steve clears her throat when ice blue shoots up to pin her to the chair. Smiling a little awkwardly, she shrugs a shoulder, attempting for casual. "I mean, it's fine if you don't wanna give me one, but I introduced myself and it's kinda weird not knowing your name." 

He stares at her for a few minutes, eyes never leaving her face even after she takes a long sip of her coffee to try and dispel the tension. Steve sighs, looking away from the man with a frown. "Nevermind." 

The silence grows between them, only broken by the clink of Steve's spoon against the mug as she stirs in more sugar than she really likes. Their food arrives, and the man looks up at her like a puppy waiting for the go ahead to eat. 

Steve frowns at that, picking up her fork and pours a heavy amount of syrup over her pancakes; this seems to spring the man into action, and he dives in, trying to act like he isn't starving as he gobbles down the food. 

She wants to ask how he became homeless, but the question is too intimate, and the answer too personal to share with a perfect stranger. He has the far away look of the other vets she sees trying to peddle for change in Times Square, and her gut clenches uncomfortably when she wonders of the horrors he's seen. 

Steve hasn't finished her food when the man has completed his meal. She lets out a surprised laugh, which startles the man to look at her in confusion. Shaking her head, she wordlessly shoves her plate over, gesturing with a hand for him to eat. He narrows his eyes in a suspicious glare (again, she wonders what happened to make him so untrusting of others), but he begins to eat slowly, chewing the food as if he's testing for poison. 

She turns away from the man, sipping at her coffee to survey the others in the diner; there are plenty of strange people filing through the doors, and she knows that there'll be more once the bars start closing for the night. "Do you need anything else, Steve?" Their waiter asks, glancing briefly to the man who's hunched over his meal like he's afraid it's going to be taken from him. 

Steve smiles and shakes her head, "Nah, Toby, you can go home for tonight." Toby grins at her, but shifts away from the man as he takes off his apron to hop behind the counter. 

The man is staring at her, brows furrowed in confusion. Steve shrugs, "I work here." He nods slowly, setting down his fork among what little remains of the pancakes. 

He's like a wounded animal. Steve thinks sadly as she pays; the man follows her out of the restaurant, looking up to the snow that's beginning to fall in fat flakes. She turns away from him, rummaging in her purse to look for at least a little money to get him something warm to wear, but when she finds the cash and turns to give it to him, the man is gone.


	4. Chapter 4

It is weeks later that the Soldier finds himself shadowing the small waitress, mind niggling with some form of worry after he had left Brooklyn to skulk about other sections of New York. 

Scowling to himself, he sticks to the shadows, watching the girl as she goes about her day, unaware of the ghost following close behind.

She is inside the diner she had brought him to, smiling charmingly at customers and heaving trays laden with food (and he laughs softly, knowing that the trays must be too heavy for her skinny arms, but watching as she ignores the strain). 

He has to prevent himself from coming to her rescue one night when she's working the late shift and one customer gets too handsy. The Arm's fingers twitch, longing to wrap around the too sweaty man's neck, crushing his wind pipe. As he takes a step toward the diner, however, his girl (as he starts to call her, interest giving way to possessiveness) grabs hold of the man's hand and twists his little finger back. 

She steps away, a stony expression on her face as she points toward the door. The Soldier stares, watching as the man hisses obscenities but ultimately stumbles through the door into the cold night. 

His attention is pulled away from the diner (away from his girl as she shakes her head, expression disgusted as she wipes up the mess the man had made) and to the drunk still whining to himself. 

The Soldier's heart slows to a dull thudding against his breast bone when he drops soundlessly to the ground. The heavy snow muffles his footsteps, and his breath leaves his mouth like smoke; the drunk turns only when the Soldier allows his foot to knock against a broken bottle. 

The man blinks up at him blearily, swaying on the spot before he reaches out and swiftly snaps the man's neck. His bloodlust is saited only slightly, and a soft sigh leaves his mouth when he has to clean up his mess. 

After, the Soldier (and he wonders if he should refer to himself as _James_ because that's the name his ma had given him, but the syllables leave a bitter taste in his mouth), returns to his post before the diner.

The girl is fine, he sees with a sigh of relief. She wipes at spilled coffee, the harsh fluorescent causing her blonde hair to be bleached a nicotine yellow and the shadows under her eyes to be more pronounced. He knows that she's sick, and that thought has him frowning as she pushes herself to work an extra hour.

When she leaves the diner, he follows silently behind; his eyes are trained on the lines of her shoulders, wondering if she can tell that she's being followed. Her small frame is hunched against the cold, and he knows he's masked by the already growing crowds when she does turn to look over her shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

She doesn't see the homeless man with the wide blue eyes for nearly three weeks, but there's always a sensation on the back of her neck like she's being watched. 

Steve has looked over her shoulder for the fifth time that night, eyes scanning the few faces of the midnight 'rush', pouring coffee into one of her customers' cups. She bites at the inside of her cheek, shaking her head before grabbing a plate of eggs from the out station. 

It's the third week when she's walking home, hands stuffed deep into her holey coat pockets and shoulders slumped forward when she hears the clatter of trash bins and the unmistakable sound of fists meeting flesh. 

A loud shout of pain has Steve shooting off like a bullet into a darkened alleyway where a group of four men are wrestling with a crumpled figure. She stares for a second before snatching the can of mace from her pocket, hands still and blood boiling. "Hey assholes!" She yells, catching one of the men off guard, and managing to spray a good amount of the mace into his face. 

The other three men are on top of her in an instant, yelling obscenities as she kicks her skinny legs out, catching their shins with a worn boot. The figure whom they had been attempting to hassle stands, still slumped forward (and Steve has a second to process that it's the homeless guy and there's an angry looking gash crossing over his face, crimson staining his teeth as he practically snarls at the men). 

A well aimed kick has one of the men clutching at his groin, but there's a flash of silver; Steve's mind shrieks _Knife!_ just as one of the men lands a solid punch to her gut. Her breath leaves her in a loud wheeze, causing her to double over, unable to see if there's a fucking _knife_ coming for her or not. 

Something wet lands on her cheek as she attempts to gather her breath; there's a choked sound and a dull thud which makes her realize she's closed her eyes, knees getting wet as she kneels in the dirty snow of the alley. Looking up, the homeless man is taking on one man (the others, Steve notes with a lurch in her bruised feeling gut, are laying on the ground beside her, their throats slit). 

The two men break away from each other; the homeless man is crouched in a defensive position, one hand holding a bloodied knife close while his other arm hands limply. 

The other man looks as if he's about to pounce, but glances at his fallen comrades and pauses. He grins quickly, the blood on his face making him look crazed. He bites down on something, "Hail Hydra. " he hisses, body quickly going ridged until he falls to the ground. 

Steve stares at the carnage around her, hands shaking in the dirty snow. The homeless man takes a moment then straightens, pocketing the knife after cleaning it on the poisoned man's coat. He looks over to her, expression unsure before he takes a tentative step forward. 

Steve's stomach rolls before she pukes.


	6. Chapter 6

"Okay," The girl says, hands planted on her knees as she swallows thickly. "Okay." 

He doesn't know what to do and watches helplessly as his girl gags once more. The Soldier shifts from one foot to the other, the arm whirring aggressively and trying over and over to recalibrate. 

She straightens up, face pale and lips a shocking cherry red. Swaying on the spot, she-- _Steve_ he thinks to himself--levels him with a blue eyed stare. "So...you killed them." 

It's not a question, so he takes it like she's one of his handlers demanding to know about a mission gone wrong. His skin prickles, and his throat feels too dry. "Yes." He doesn't try to justify his actions to her, though the way her face pales even more has guilt gnawing uncomfortably in his gut. 

"Okay." Steve repeats, nodding shakily to herself before she retrieves her purse from the ground. The arm gives off a rather loud screeching sound, causing the Soldier's shoulder to jerk rather painfully. The light from one of the street lamps catches on the metal plates, and Steve releases a little breath. "And you had a metal arm." 

He chews at the inside of his cheek and is about to reply the affirmative when the girl passes out. 

For a moment, he doesn't know what to do and lets her small frame crumble to the ground. She smacks her head against the concrete and only then does he move to gather her in his arms. The edges of her coat are speckled with blood, something that makes his nose scrunch up in disgust; she weighs next to nothing, and he tries not to think about her bird-like bones being crushed under his hands. 

()()

It's hours later when she begins to come to. The Soldier knows the moment Steve moves from sleep to wake in the minute way her breathing had paused. He's sitting at her kitchen table, the arm held over the scratched surface while he pauses with a small screwdriver held over the open interface. 

He swallows, and then berates himself for feeling so nervous. "You don't have anything broken." He purses his lips together for a second and then continues. "I didn't do anything to you." 

Steve opens her eyes slowly, and he's struck by how blue they are against the backdrop of her ashy skin. He sees her hand tighten to a fist on top of the worn blanket he had thrown on her an our ago; he hears the rattling breath she takes into her damaged lungs and notes the way she tries not to collapse into a coughing fit. No doubt the punches to her gut did her breathing issues any good. "How do you know where I live?" She says softly, gingerly sitting up with a wince of pain. 

The Soldier looks back down at the arm, prodding a few stripped wires back into place. A few metal plates in the fingers slide back, and he starts to have the ghost of feeling in the false tips. "I've...been following you." He admits quietly, and feels her stare boring into the side of his face. "To make sure nothing bad happened to you." 

Steve is quiet for a few minutes, long enough that he thinks she may have fallen asleep, but when he looks back up he meets her gaze head on. "Those guys tonight," she says, "They were after you, weren't they?" 

He curls the arm's fingers one by one and is pleased with his quick repair. "Yes." 

Steve chews on the corner of her mouth, and he follows the action in a slight daze before her next question pulls him out. "What do they want with you?"

The Soldier feels dread run through his veins; perhaps he had been foolish and was actually one of them. His hand twitches, the urge to ram the knife he keeps in his boot into her throat is strong. Instead he takes a deep breath and releases it. "I'm...compromised. I need to be destroyed. Hydra doesn't like broken things."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long; I've been preoccupied with school, work, and Star Wars.

Steve isn't sure what to make of the man with the metal arm, so she does what seems like a good idea and begins to stress bake. 

He watches her with wide blue eyes, expression both lost and blank at the same time; she feels her heart constrict just a little bit at that, and tries to quell the shaking in her hands as she makes fresh whipped cream. The man doesn't say anything, which is a little unnerving, but she does offer him a wavering smile from time to time as she checks the various sweets that are resting in the oven.

Steve really doesn't want to talk about what is going on, but the inevitable happens and she plops down across from him with a little more force than necessary. "So," she begins, her voice cracking even on the one syllable word. "You're with...Hydra?"

"No." His reply is like a whip crack, and the expression on his face reminds Steve that she did just see this guy _kill_ someone. Her stomach rolls with the memory, and he must be able to see her distress because his expression instantly softens. "I'm...sorry," Big blue eyes stare at her like a puppy, so Steve offers the guy a shaky reassuring smile.

"It's...fine." Steve swallows down the semi hysterical laugh that's threatening to come up her dry throat. "I mean, you did just mention an organization that was supposed to have been stopped in the _fourties_ and was recently revealed to be a part of our national safety...so," Her stomach rolls again, and she has to hurriedly excuse herself to dry heave over the toilet.

When her retching has calmed down, Steve rests her for head against the ground; she closes her eyes and tries to think _calming_ thoughts. "Are...you alright?" She jumps at the sound of the homeless man's soft question, and looks up with a wavering smile. He looks worried, and--Steve thinks--a little like he's going to start crying or jump out the window, maybe both.

"I'm fine, I have a pretty--uh, delicate system."

He lowers his eyes, his dark hair creating a curtain hat shields his expression. "Can I...help?" She watches as white teeth bite down on a plump pink lip. "I can leave."

Steve stands on shaky legs and pushes her hair off of her sweaty forhead. "No no, it's okay," she won't admit that she's a little afraid of Hydra busting down her door, and more afraid for him if he's on his own. "I'm just a little...what's your name?"

He glances at her; his shoulders are stooped in a way that's an attempt to make him look smaller. Steve has to pull herself back from leaning too mug into his personal bubble because his eyes are so _expressive_ that it has her fingers twitching for a pencil. "Um it's..."He wrinkles his nose in thought. "Bucky. Call me Bucky."


	8. Chapter 8

He has given himself a name that feels as if it has always been there, buried deep in his mind for years. 

Steve nods a little jerkily, her blue eyes flickering over his face for a second before she holds out a thin hand. "Nice to meet you, Bucky." He stares at her hand for a moment, watching the minute twitching of her fingers. He knows she is afraid, and the fact that she is most likely afraid of _him_ makes Bucky want to leave her to her life.

He tentatively grasps Steve's hand with the metal hand, her warmth traveling up the sensors of the Arm telling him the repair had been a success. Steve doesn't flinch at the chill of the hand, but her tongue flicks out to wet her pink lips and it's a destraction.

The timer goes off, cutting through his self-imposed tension like scissors to a rubber band. Steve pulls her hand away from his, her thin fingers like water; she offers Bucky another smile (though this time it's less forced and more tired). "Looks like the cakes are done."

She leaves to check on the sweets and he follows obediently, watching her pale hair glint invitingly in the low light of the kitchen.

Her back is hunched as she gathers the desserts from the oven, enough that he can see almost every individual notch of her spine through her thin shirt.

Steve places the cakes on a wire rack on the counter, and turns back to him with a small frown. There is a wrinkle in between her brows that he wants to smooth away, but instead he just allows his fingers to twitch at his sides. "Why does Hydra want you?"

Bucky frowns and looks away from the woman's intense gaze though he can feel it burning into the side of his face. "I told you--" he cuts himself off, and let's out a puff of air from his nose in frustration. He watches as Steve folds her slender arms over her chest.

A part of him is saying that he can trust this woman while another itches for a gun so he can put an end to her. Bucky shakes his head and looks back up to meet her gaze. She isn't glaring, which makes his shoulders loosen, and is instead giving him a very patient look. "You wouldn't believe me."

Steve smiles softly, her arms unfolding from her chest. She shakes her head and runs a thin hand through her blonde hair, causing a few curled strands to stand on end. Bucky feels like, in his past life, he would've attempted to move mountains for a dame who looked like her. His frown deepens at the thought, but Steve doesn't notice. "Well, you don't have to answer tonight, how 'bout?" She turns and flicks off the oven with a click. "If you want, you can take a shower and we can talk about this in the morning?"

Steve leaves the kitchen and he follows again, relief at not having to explain things he doesn't fully understand washing over him.

Steve leads him to a small bathroom that is barely the size of a closet, and she offers him a worn towel that has _Captain America_ printed on the front with a tired smile. He takes it without thought, looking down a the bright colors and his own face drawn in a chunky comic style with an eyebrow perked. He hopes she doesn't notice, but remembers the scraggly beard covering his face. 

"Go ahead and get cleaned up. I'll leave you some blankets on the couch." Steve winces for him, "Sorry in advance, it's pretty lumpy." She scurries down the small hallway and disappears into a room he assumes is hers.

Bucky retreats into the bathroom and closes the door with some difficulty. The water runs hotter than expected, but the heat isn't unwelcome; his fingers finally feel as if they're thawing. He looks up to the ceiling, at the water stained and cracked tiles; he scrubs the flesh hand down his face, grimacing when he still feels dirt clinging to his skin. It has been months since he last bathed, and he wonders if Steve noticed. He shifts in embarrassment, hunching in order to fit his entire frame under the low hanging shower head, and thinks she probably did.

He doesn't know how long he's been in there, but the water begins to run cold and his body jolts with the shock of it. Hurriedly, Bucky turns off the water and steps out into the steam. He pointedly doesn't look at the towel, and scrubs his skin till it's rubbed pink; the mirror is fogged over, so he doesn't have to see the Arm melded into his skin. That's a small blessing.

Bucky looks down at the pile of his clothes with a small frown. They're insanely dirty, and he finally feels _clean_. He shifts from one foot to the other, worrying his lower lip in between his teeth. He flicks his eyes up to the door when there's a quiet knock, his senses sparking with the thought that it could be a threat. Bucky shakes his head, knowing that it's only Steve, and clears his throat. "Uh, yeah?"

"I put some blankets on the couch for you, and um...my friend Sam has some stuff here and I don't know if they're you're size, but like--you can't fit in _my_ clothes," She laughs a little, the sound a balm on Bucky's frayed nerves. "So, uh--" 

He opens the door a crack, peering through it down to the woman who holds up a pile of clothes all in various shades of brown and black. He tells himself that he _is not_ sweeping her for weapons, instead he's just admiring her over all. Steve's eyes widen a fraction as she glances down at his chest, and he shifts a little to hide the Arm's connection to his skin. "Thank you." He says, gripping the clothes and pulling them into the foggy bathroom.

Steve smiles, her skin brightening in a blush; she says a quick 'goodnight' and scurries to her room. The lock on her door clicks softly, and Bucky nods to himself in satisfaction at her caution.

He dresses quickly; the clothes are soft by being well worn, and though the shirt is a little tight, the pants fit almost perfectly. Bucky slumps with a long, low sigh and steps into the living room. A small smile comes unbidden to his mouth when he sees that Steve has already made up couch into a bed for him; he snorts and shakes his head, laying down on the lumpy surface.

Another long sigh tumbles from his mouth as he stares up at the ceiling. He can hear Steve shifting in her room, and wonders if she's even sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't seen Civil War yet, and it kills me inside.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve wakes up after a few hours of restless sleep and wonders if last night had been a dream. There's an ache in her body that tells her it wasn't though. 

She slides from bed, tugging at the long shirt she sleeps in, and pads over to the locked door. She listens very carefully to see if the man--Bucky, was awake or if he was even still there. Steve chews on the inside of her cheek, willing her heart to stop pounding so quickly. 

She wonders if what he had said was true, and that thought makes her want to retch. It would make...some sort of sense, the men in the alley had been straight up 'Men in Black' after all. Not to mention Bucky fought as of he were dancing, as if it was his first and only nature. 

Steve shook her head. If Hydra was still around (which apparently, according to that woman--Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow--it _was_ ) then Bucky is in big trouble. She makes up her mind to help him, and grudgingly thinks that maybe she should call Sam...eventually. 

Mind made up, Steve opens the door and puts a smile on her face. Bucky is sitting up and staring over at her, his expression blank. "Mornin'," Steve quips, and notices a small crease appear between his eyebrows. "You hungry?" 

She waits for his slow nod before going over to the small kitchen. Pointing at the fridge, Steve smiles over her shoulder at him. "Can you grab some eggs? I'll make 'em with our pancakes." 

Bucky is suddenly beside her (how he moved that quickly and that silently is beyond Steve, and she has to swallow down a few startled breaths). She hands him a bowl and he holds an egg in between the metal fingers as if inspecting it. "I'm pretty sure they haven't gone bad."

Bucky flicks his gaze up to her and then to the egg before cracking it. They cook in silence, and Steve is momentarily surprised by how effortlessly they move around one another in her tiny kitchen.

There is a huge stack of pancakes and a pile of fluffy eggs on the coffee table, and Steve stares at Bucky for a moment. He is intimidating, even with be head, but he appears to be attempting to shrink in on himself under her gaze.

"Who are you?" She asks softly, hands moving so that she serves them breakfast on her old Disney _Hercules_ plates. Bucky looks uncomfortable with the question, his icy blue eyes gaining a far away look. He purses his lips and prods at his eggs 

"You...wouldn't believe me." He looks back up at her and his furrowed eyebrows relax slightly. "I don't have any way of showing you." 

"You could try?" Steve attempts to smile, but from the worried frown working over Bucky's mouth, she's sure it's not good. She sighs and shakes her head, "Well, we could get you some clothes and a razor or something, and work from there?" She's giving him an out right now, and he looks immensely relieved.

()()

Steve notices that Bucky walks almost three steps behind her at all times, and that makes her want to twitch. 

The store that they're in isn't crowded, so there isn't a reason for him to do so. She turns and waits for him to catch up, a small scowl on her face. "I get that I'm short, but you don't need to hang back."

An embarrassed flush works over Bucky's face (though it's pretty hard to see with the beard). He looks down at his shoes and doesn't meet her eyes; his shoulders are stooped low as if he's waiting for her to...hit him. Guilt stabs Steve through the chest at the sight. "I'm sorry." He murmurs, "Habit."

Steve clears her throat loudly, her hand tightening around the handle of the basket full of clothes. "No, that's my fault...um, if it makes you more comfortable--"

Bucky shakes his head, and offers a tiny smile. "No, I'm fine." Steve feels her face heat in a blush, so she tosses a pack of razors in the basket.

()()

Weeks pass with little incident.

Bucky disappears for a while, and Steve tries not to worry as she works. The diner is busy, so it keeps her mind off of the mysterious man who stumbled into her life. When she enters her apartment--empty, like it has been for the past four days--she doesn't put a name to the sinking feeling in her chest.

Steve jolts awake at the week mark of Bucky being gone; there's the sound of a scuffle in her living room, so she grabs her bat from under the bed and hops into the small space with a loud cry. She stops for a shocked moment, seeing Sam going head to head with Bucky; her best friend is holding his own against, what she assumes to be, a rogue agent or something. Bucky lunges, and Steve yells out a sharp command for both of them to stop.

"It's eight in the goddamned morning! Why the fuck are you fighting!?" Steve sets her bat down with more force than necessary while both men eye each other in suspicion.

Sam's nose is bleeding, while there's a bruise blossoming over Bucky's left eye. "You know this guy?" They say at the same time, and then whirl around to glower at each other like school boys.

Steve snorts and goes over to grab a bag of frozen peas and a paper towel for both of her idiots. She tosses the bag at Bucky while holding out the towel to Sam with a little scowl. "Yes, to both of you." She shifts a little awkwardly under Sam's probing gaze, teeth gnawing on the inside of her cheek while guilt blooms in her chest. She doesn't want to acknowledge that she's extremely happy Bucky showed back up, even if it was to beat Sam's face in. "I was...I was gonna tell you."

Sam's eyebrows creep up to his hairline and he laughs. Bucky is still side-eyeing him, but Steve notes the tiny smile playing at a corner of his mouth. "What, that you apparently have a live-in?" Sam winces, "Who's fists feel like fucking _stone_."

Steve lets out a whoosh of air, and she realizes that if she tells Sam who exactly Bucky is running from (she had been doing some digging at the library while the man had been absent, and could only find bits and pieces of the Nazi offshoot), she'd be dragging him directly in the crossfire. Sam doesn't seem to notice her inner turmoil (though she'd be a fool not to think he hasn't noticed) and instead stand up and offers his hand for Bucky to shake. "Well, since Steve isn't gonna introduce me. I'd say nice to meet you, but that'd be a lie." He smiles charmingly down at the other man, and Steve wants to laugh at the overprotective stance her best friend is taking. "Sam Wilson."

Bucky stares at Sam's hand for what stretches into an uncomfortably long time, the bag of peas still pressed against his face. Steve wonders if he's purposefully making the other man uncomfortable or if he's trying to gauge whether or not he's a threat. Finally, he grips Sam's hand and nods stiffly. "Bucky."

Steve claps her hands to ease the alpha male vibes she's suddenly getting, and the two men look over to her. She fixes Sam with a look that has him shifting guiltily; she notes that he's in his running gear. "So! Why the hell did you break into my apartment, Sam?" Sam pouts slightly and crosses his arms, giving Steve a _look_ right back.

"Thought this guy was breaking in, figured that you could use the help. _You're welcome_." Sam's pout turns full on, and Steve swallows down a laugh because she's supposed to be _angry_. "And here I was, beating up your boyfriend that you didn't tell me about."

Steve ignores Bucky's staring and begins to push Sam toward the door. He's not making it any easier, and she grunts with the effort. "Yeah yeah yeah, you're a real hero. Thanks." Sam turns around once they're at the door and gives Steve a tight hug.

"You'd tell me if something was up, right?" He asks lowly, and Steve nods. Sam lets out a long sigh, and flicks his gaze up at Bucky who's still watching them like a hawk. He smiles brightly, though Steve can read the threat underneath his pleasantness. "Guess I'll see you around, nice meeting you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam is a wonderful human being and he needs to have like ten movies.


	10. Chapter 10

Steve doesn't question where he went, and he doesn't know if he wants her to. 

He had left New York in order to get Hydra off his trail, or at least make it more difficult for them to find him. He had left obvious clues further south, and not so obvious ones in the west.

He had made sure to completely disappear when he went back east. 

Bucky intended to show back up quietly, as if he hadn't been gone for days...but then he had gotten slammed into a door. 

The man was a soldier, that much was apparent, and had put up a good fight. Bucky was eyeing his weaknesses (a slight limp on the left from a possible wound long since healed) when Steve's shout rang through the apartment. 

He could hear the threat loud and clear, laced tightly around the man's pleasant words. Jealousy simmered under Bucky's skin, and envy gripped tight at his heart when he watched Steve and the man embrace. 

The silence following Sam Wilson's departure is unpleasant, and Steve stares at him with accusatory blue eyes. Bucky wants to beg for forgiveness, to roll over like a dog and allow her to tear out his insides. 

But he doesn't. 

Steve lets out a long sigh and gives him a small glare. "Don't do that again." She says this so softly that he has to strain to hear, but he nods stiffly at her command and watches her shoulders relax. 

()()

"I can probably get you a job." Bucky looks up from where he's cutting onions into thin slivers. Steve is focused on stirring the soup for dinner, but he can see the tense line of her frame as she waits for his answer. 

"Alright." They haven't really talked about their living arrangement; he still sleeps on the couch and she still locks her bed room door every night, but they move around one another comfortably in the small apartment. 

Bucky knew that it couldn't last forever, so he shoves down the disappointment and attempts to forget it. 

Steve smiles slightly, relief loosening her shoulders. She looks over at him, giving Bucky an assessing once over. He's glad that he's dexterous with his hands, because he can't look away from her summer blue eyes. "You'll have to, um...clean up a bit, but my boss likes me so you pretty much'll get the job." 

Bucky nods and lets out a silent breath when Steve looks away. "And...maybe we can look around for a bed for you. The couch is really shitty." 

()()

He stares at himself in Steve's tiny bathroom mirror, a razor held in one hand while the other clenches around the cracked sink. 

Bucky sucks in a long breath and releases it, mind seesawing between blind panic and cold flatness. He knows that he could use the cheap disposable razor as a weapon, knows that if he cuts just so, his blood will spurt out and cover the mirror. 

Bucky shakes his head, focusing on the sound of Steve moving around in the apartment just outside of the bathroom. They had gotten him a bed the day before, and it's shocking how easily he fell asleep on the thing. 

He sighs and looks down at the razor and his white knuckles. He doesn't trust himself, but he does trust Steve. 

Opening the bathroom door, Bucky peeks around it just to silently watch the woman putter about. She's putting away groceries, stretched out and up on her tiptoes in order to put away the bright red coffee container above the stove. Bucky finds himself smiling softly, and wonders at the warm emotion curling comfortably in his chest. 

He clears his throat because Steve had yelled at him last time he walked up behind her, and she drops down on flat feet and turns. She looks concerned, a box of cereal clenched loosely in one hand. "Everything okay?" 

Bucky suddenly feels very foolish, but he swallows down his shame and wordlessly holds out the razor to her. "...please." 

Steve's eyes cloud with a mixture of emotions, but sadness is the most prevalent. She doesn't pity him for things she doesn't understand, but she does mourn for the life that has been taken away from him. (Bucky wishes that the words would come easier to him so he could tell her about his life before...tell her that he wished she had been around then when he was human and not a ghost). 

She has him sit on the floor in front of the couch because even sitting on a chair he's still too tall for her to reach, and cuts his hair first. Bucky closes his eyes, taking calming breaths and just listening to the sound of the scissors slicing through his hair. Steve rests her hand on his shoulder, and he counts the points of contact where her fingers rest. 

Shaving his face comes next, and he has a brief thought of a girl from before (red lips, sharp wit, rolling accent...or was it a young girl with knife callouses over her fingers and harsh Russian in her mouth?) doing this. He opens his eyes enough so he can watch Steve, an expression of concentration on her face. 

The razor glides down his cheek, and Steve's hands are gentle. "I used to do this for Sam." Steve murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. The air between them feels...more intimate, but at the mention of Sam Wilson, Bucky feels his fingers tighten. 

Steve's tongue flickers out to wet her lips, and she has to go over his face with the blade to make sure everything is clean cut. "When he first got back...he was in pretty bad shape, lost his partner and was practically catatonic." Steve sighs softly and grabs a towel to wipe off his face. 

She pulls it away and he feels cleaner, more like a person...Bucky meets her eyes, and he notes the shocked and confused expression on her face. He frowns. "Is something the matter?" 

Steve's eyebrows furrow and she squints at him for a moment before shaking her head. "Are you...are you Captain America?"

He is shocked and looks down at his hands, one flesh and one metal. "...not anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve finally figures it out and we get an intimate shaving scene. 
> 
> Thank you all for your continued interest in this fic! <3


	11. Chapter 11

Steve is staring right at Captain America.

Her mouth is posed in a perfect 'o' of surprise, and her hands are covered with shaving cream; Bucky--Captain _America_?!--is looking anywhere but her, his plush mouth twisted downwards at the corners and his eyebrows furrowed. 

What happened to him? 

Steve clears her throat, causing ice blue eyes to flicker over to her; she places a hand over his own, not knowing what to say but seeing that he was internally struggling. "Okay." She accepts that there is a war hero from WWII in her living room, one that doesn't look a day over 27 and who has a metal arm. The world has superheroes, so why not one more? 

She sees Bucky's shoulders relax at her acceptance, and he turns his hand over to twine their fingers together. She's a little surprised because he's never shown any indication that he likes physical contact, but she feels a small smile bloom on her face anyway. A soft snort tumbles out of her mouth, and Bucky raises an eyebrow in question at the noise. "I bet it was pretty weird sleeping with a Captain America blanket, huh?" 

His mouth twitches, but he doesn't laugh which Steve finds herself thinking is a shame. Looking away from her but still holding her hand, Bucky rolls a shoulder in a shrug. "A little." 

()()

After finding out that Bucky is Captain America, it gives Steve a place to actually start looking for answers. 

She chews on the end of a pen, frustration burning a hole in her chest while every single biography and news source says the same fucking thing: James Buchanan Barnes became MIA in 1941. There isn't any follow ups except a few interviews with his team mates and those involved with the Serum Project. 

Steve's eyes catch on the interview with Peggy Carter, and she feels a small smile of victory curl over her mouth. The woman is still alive.

Letting out a rather loud whoop (that causes other people in the library to give her dirty looks and the librarian to hiss out a 'be quiet'), Steve scribbles down the address to the nursing home where Peggy Carter lives. 

Maybe...there's some hope for answers after all.

()()

Steve chews on the inside of her cheek, wondering how to bring this up to Bucky. 

They're watching TV together on Steve's ratty couch (and she's thankful that they were able to find a comfortable bed for the man, even if it was pushed into the small space that her landlord dubbed 'the dining room'). Bucky is pressed against her side, a warm line of muscle causing her to flush; he's become more likely to reach out for her after she figured it out, like he was starving for something physical that didn't result in bruises. 

She bites down a little harder than intended and lets out a soft curse when blood begins to pool in her mouth. 

The man jumps, turning to her in wide eyed shock; he lifts a hand to press metal fingers against the swell of her cheek, and Steve's flush increases. She jerks away, ignoring the stab of guilt when Bucky flinches as if he's done something wrong. Smiling, Steve waves a hand at her face and shakes her head. "Sorry, I-uh, I bit down on my cheek." The man's eyebrows furrow, and his eyes scan her face. 

Steve resists the urge to twitch under his gaze, and instead stands up to get something to drink. 

She's filling up a glass full of water when Bucky lightly touches her waist to let her know he's behind her. Steve swallows and turns, noting the concerned line of his mouth and the confused furrow of his eyebrows. "You're nervous." He states, gaze searching. "What's wrong?" 

Steve sighs a little shakily and places the glass of water into the sink. She twists her fingers together, looking away from Bucky while trying to find the right words. "I've been...I've been doing some research...about you." Bucky doesn't say anything, but she does notice that he freezes. She shakes her head, frustration at not being able to find _anything_ save for a few names and dates ( _Peggy Carter_ ) welling up inside until there are tears at the corners of her eyes. Steve wipes them away in irritation, and lets out a soft gasp when Bucky wraps his hands gently around her own. 

"What did you find?" 

" _Nothing_." She spits, and then sucks down a breath. "Nothing...except...do you know Peggy Carter is still alive?" Steve dares to look up, and feels a stab of sadness (and jealousy, but she doesn't want to think about it) at the lost and broken look crossing over Bucky's face. 

"Peggy's still..." Steve watches the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows. "She's still alive?" 

Steve licks her lips, not wanting to be jealous of a woman she didn't even know (because there were rumors and speculations that the relationship between James Buchanan Barns and Margaret "Peggy" Carter was more than anyone knew). "Yeah." Steve gently pulls hands from Bucky's, trying not to think that she misses the warmth and coolness of flesh and metal, and goes to grab the nursing home address. 

Bucky is still in the kitchen right where Steve had left him, and she hands him the paper. His sharp eyes examine it, but she notes that his hands are shaking and there's the tell tale glaze of tears. He's quiet for a moment, and Steve wonders if he'll leave again. 

She doesn't want to think about that, but it's a very real possibility.

(She doesn't want to think that she's gotten so attached). 

Bucky folds the paper and releases a long breath that sounds as if all the air is being let out of him. He turns to face her, the lost expression still on his face. "Will you...will you go with me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve is starting to show her affection for Bucky while a ghost from his past comes into the light.
> 
> Ugh, you guys are fantastic! <3 Thank you for your comments


	12. Chapter 12

Peggy Carter was a beautiful woman and someone Bucky respected greatly. 

His heart thuds in his chest, and he stares quietly out of the window of the train, mind wandering. Steve has been quiet all morning, packing their things quickly after finding relatively cheap train tickets to DC where Peggy is. He's grateful to her for allowing him the silence, and for finding that the woman was even alive at all. 

He thought that they were all dead.

Bucky tears his eyes away from the blurred scenery and looks over to Steve, who has her eyes closed and is listening to music. He studies her profile, eyes tracing the sharp slope of her nose, her furrowed eyebrows, the rosy pout of her lips. He wonders why he became so...attached to her, why his heart swells with affection that he thought was dead and buried long ago. 

Peggy Carter was his first 'true' love, a love born more out of respect for her than lust. He's finding that the same emotions he held for the British agent is nearly the same to the emotions he feels for Steve. 

Bucky blinks, shocked at the realization. 

He...loves Steve? 

Steve's eyes flutter open, and she tilts her head in his direction. Bucky swallows thickly, and tries to not stare; the blonde raises an eyebrow and quirks a corner of her mouth in a confused smile. She moves her hand from where it's clenched in her lap and twines it with the Arm's glove covered one. "You okay?" She asks, her voice harsh from disuse (or from the way she looks a little pale, and the mints to ward off motion sickness in her purse). 

Bucky nods stiffly, not trusting himself to speak. He doesn't want to scare her off with his sudden...emotions. His mind is still unstable, and he doesn't want to burden Steve even more than he already has by just existing. 

()()

They check into their hotel without issue. Steve smiles brightly at the receptionist, thanking the man politely when he hands her the key cards. Bucky doesn't like the way the man gives Steve an appreciative once over, but shakes his head at the ridiculous thought. 

He does narrow his eyes in a dangerous glare when the man looks away from Steve and tries not to smirk at the way he pales. 

Steve opens the door to their room with a long whooshing sigh, setting her bag on the floor and collapsing onto one of the beds. Bucky's eyes flicker around the room, assessing where the exists are (only the one door) and where he would put Steve in case of a security breach (the windowless bathroom at the back of the room). 

Bucky sits down on his bed, watching as Steve rolls around on the double bed for a moment before rolling onto her back to look at him. They stare at one another for a moment before Steve looks away with a soft blush and a huff. "I called the nursing home and they said that we'd be able to visit first thing in the morning." 

"Alright." They fall into silence for a few more moments before sits up. She gnaws at her bottom lip, her fingers twisting nervously; Bucky wants to smooth the crease between her eyebrows, so he gets up and sits beside her and lightly places a hand on her own fidgeting ones. "Are you alright?" 

Steve's summer blue eyes widen and lock with his; she lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head for a moment. He tries not to notice how red her lips have gotten from the way she's been biting them, and tries not to think of the way they would feel under his own. "I guess I'm just...nervous about tomorrow." 

"Why?" Steve lets out another self deprecating laugh. 

"Well...it's _Peggy Carter_ , she created SHIELD." The blonde searches his eyes for...something. "She's inspiring, and...um, she was important to you." 

Bucky looks down at their linked hands, watches the way his thumb has been rubbing soothing circles over Steve's sharp knuckles without his knowledge. "...I'm nervous too." He admits, "...but you were the one who found her, and I want to...say goodbye." 

He doesn't tell her that she's important to him as well, possibly more important than Peggy will ever be. Peggy was the one who made him a better man, and he will always be thankful for that.

Steve though, Steve is the one who is making him feel human again. 

()()

Bucky freezes in front of the nursing home doors, skin prickling with fear as the chemical smell of antiseptic crawls up his nose. It reminds him of the Chair, of electric shocks running through his brain and scrambling everything he was. 

Steve lets out a squeak of pain, and that's when he realizes that he's grabbed hold of her hand and is squeezing far too hard. He snatches his hand away as if burnt and doesn't meet her eyes. "I'm sorry." He murmurs, cradling his hand against his body just in case he accidentally hurts her again. 

"Will you be okay?" Bucky sucks in a long breath of air and then releases it. 

"I think so." 

Steve goes in first and is greeted by a nurse who holds out a clipboard for them to sign. The woman gives him a look that is a little too lingering for his tastes, so he tries to shrink down and pretend to be as small as possible. Steve signs them both in under the false names she had given the nurse over the phone, and they're quickly lead to Peggy's room. 

"She has her good days...and her bad," The nurse smiles at them, eyes flickering between the two of them. "Please don't try to get her riled up, it makes it worse." 

"Of course." Steve smiles and leans against Bucky, reassuring him with her solidity even though she barely reaches his chest. Bucky nods jerkily, heart thudding against his breast bone. 

The door opens without any sound, and the nurse is the first to enter. "Ms. Carter, you have some visitors!" Bucky stays in the doorway while Steve follows the nurse in, watching the woman flit about the room and helping Peggy sit up in bed. 

She's frail, but he can still see the fire in her eyes as her gaze lands on Steve, a curious frown tilting her lips. "...I'm afraid I don't know who you are." His heart jolts at her voice, remembering the shape of it against his mouth as they danced in a bar in France, La Marseillaise ringing in the distance. 

Steve sits on the chair that the nurse provides and offers the woman a small nervous smile. "I'm um...I'm here with a friend." Peggy raises an eyebrow, and then her gaze flickers up to where he's standing. Bucky watches as her eyes go wide, and her mouth drop. 

"Katie, will you please leave." The nurse frowns in confusion, but Peggy merely waves a hand at her impatiently. The nurse--Katie--quietly huffs and scurries out of the room; Bucky takes a step inside and closes the door. Peggy's eyes are trained on him, and there is confusion and hurt swimming in their depths; he can see tears beginning to well in the corners, and her hands are shaking from where they're clenched on the blanket. "James...y-you're alive?" 

Bucky steps forward and tries to smile, but the action seems forced and he always knew Peggy hated when he lied to her. "I'm sorry I missed our date." The woman huffs out a broken sounding laugh and she presses a hand to her eyes as she attempts to compose herself. 

"You great bloody idiot." Bucky doesn't touch her, and when Peggy looks up, he can see that she is struggling not to sob. "I thought you were dead for 70 years, James." 

"I know, I'm sorry." The woman scoffs and then looks at Steve; she gives the blonde a considering once over, her white eyebrows furrowing before she shakes her head. "Well then, care to introduce me? He never was one for manners." This she says to Steve, who tries not to snort in amusement but fails. Bucky blinks, watching as Peggy takes Steve's hand within her own. 

Steve's eyes are very wide, and there is a bright red flush high on her cheekbones. "I-I'm, um--my name is Stephanie Rogers, m'am." The blonde blushes harder, "I go by Steve though." 

Peggy smiles slowly, her eyes moving up to Bucky's face and she gives him a quick wink. "It's very lovely to meet you, Miss Rogers...do you mind if James and I spoke privately?" Steve glances over at Bucky; he struggles for a moment before giving her a tiny incline of his head. 

Standing, Steve rests her hand on his shoulder for a second, squeezing it in reassurance before leaving the room. 

Bucky sits on the chair the blonde had occupied moments before and Peggy rests against her pillows. There are still tears caught in her eyelashes, and she looks at him like he's a ghost. Bucky swallows and looks away. "I'm sorry, Peggy." 

"James...what happened to you?" He doesn't know how to answer that; decades and decades of programming is shoved into his head, and when he closes his eyes all he can see are the bodies of each person he killed. Sighing, Bucky runs a hand down his face. 

"Hydra." Peggy makes a small noise, and he looks up to find that she's gritting her teeth. 

"Those _bastards_...We should have looked for you but they said that you were _gone_. I should have looked for you...I'm so sorry." Bucky watches as she begins to cry, 70 year's worth of frustration and grief spilling out of her until she begins to hack. 

The nurse enters the room and shoves him away; he watches wide eyed as Peggy calms down, her face scrunched up in confusion. "Where am I?" 

He leaves with one last look, watching as the nurse gives Peggy something to calm her down. His heart breaks in two as the first woman he truly loved falls into a medicated sleep. 

"Goodbye, Peggy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Peggy, but I don't feel like I do her justice. 
> 
> I made a playlist for this fic: http://8tracks.com/26letters/ghost-story
> 
> THANK YOU ALL <3 You guys are the real MVPs.


	13. Chapter 13

Bucky doesn't say anything once they're outside of the nursing home. Steve bites nervously at the inside of her cheek, wondering if bringing him here to see Peggy Carter was a good thing or not. 

He has a far away look on his face and walks silently beside her, nodding once when she suggests they get some lunch. 

Steve mentally sighs, gazing morosely down at the top of their table. "...thank you." She looks up in surprise, watching as Bucky's shoulders slump and he gazes back at her. 

"For...for what?" He smiles softly (really, it's just a quick quirk of one side of his mouth), and Steve feels her cheeks heat at the fondness that washes in her gut. 

"Bringing me here, helping me get...closure." Bucky looks down at the table, covered metal hand fidgeting with the silver wear. "For everything." 

Steve feels like there's more he wants to say, but she's not sure she's ready to hear it. She reaches over and grips his hand, feeling the metal fingers whirr to life under her own. "Bucky, I--"

She's interrupted by their waitress (who for a moment, looks between the two of them and realizes _something_ ). Steve pulls her hand away from Bucky's, her face blooming into a blush while his expression smooths to noting. 

What was she about to say?

The waitress scampers away, but the moment is lost. Steve feels another sigh wanting to make its way out of her mouth. 

She stands and offers the man a tiny smile. "I'm gonna go the the bathroom really quick." Bucky nods a little stiffly as she grabs her purse and (doesn't) run away. 

Steve locks herself in the one person restroom and sits on the toilet. She slaps a hand to her face and groans loudly, wondering how _feelings_ even happened. 

"So Captain America was always my historical crush, so what? And it's like, not even anything that the _actual_ Captain America is my roommate." Steve drags her hands down her face and wants to scream. "There is no way in hell that Bucky would ever feel anything like that for you, so pull yourself together, Steve."

She feels tears begin to form in her eyes and wipes them away with an irritated huff. "...besides, he's been through so much that I don't even know about. It's not fair to him for me to feel this way." 

Steve lets out a long sigh and gets up. She glares at herself in the mirror and splashes some cold water on her face. She decides that she won't burden Bucky with her stupid crush; it wasn't fair to him. 

Mind made up, Steve marches out of the bathroom and to their table. Bucky's eyebrows furrow in concern when he sees her face. "Are you alright?" 

Steve wonders if her eyes are red from holding back tears, but she smiles a little too brightly and she can see his eyes narrow. "I'm fine!" She lies, and ignores the stab of guilt. 

()()

Bucky asks if they can go to the Smithsonian and Steve excitedly agrees. She's surprised when the metal detectors don't go off when Bucky walks through them, but she supposes that whatever his arm is made out of, Hydra made sure it wouldn't be detectable. 

They walk through exhibit after exhibit and Steve rambles the entire time. She had wanted to go to school for art, but history was one of her other passions; she relays this information to Bucky, who merely looks amused. 

(Steve ignores ignores ignores the fluttering in her stomach). 

They come upon the most crowded section of the museum, and Steve has to hop in order to see over the heads of the crowd. Bucky looks uncomfortable and his hand finds hers and squeezes. "It's the _Captain America_ exhibit." He says quietly. 

Steve freezes and then glances up at him in concern. "We don't have to go in."

Bucky smirks, though it looks forced and shrugs a shoulder; he hasn't let go of her hand yet. "I've already been through it, and besides, you've got the real deal right here." 

Steve makes herself laugh lightly, but she tugs him away from the crowd. His grip around her hand loosens until their fingers are merely laced together. 

(Steve doesn't think about how they look to people who _don't know_ , like they're a couple visiting DC and seeing the sites rather than a super soldier saying goodbye to his lost love. She doesn't think about it). 

()()

"I'm excited to go home tomorrow." Steve collapses on to her bed with a happy sigh and closes her eyes. She doesn't hear Bucky moving around in the room, but she can feel him giving her an amused look from his side of the room. 

"I've never liked DC," Bucky says, and she looks over to see him pulling off the glove from his metal hand. He flexes it, mouth perked at the corners while he watches her. "Too many people."

Steve snorts and lays on her side, propping her head up on one hand. "Hate to break it to you, pal, but New York has way more people."

Bucky hums and stretches out on his bed. He stares up at the ceiling while Steve studies his profile, her eyes tracing the line of his nose and the curve of his lips. "But it's _home_...it's," his eyebrows furrow and he turns his head to stare at her. Steve swallows under his searching gaze, her hands beginning to sweat; she mentally screams that _it's not fair to him!_. "It's...where you are." 

Steve wants to cry or yell or _something_ , but Bucky suddenly tenses and sits up, hand grabbing a knife from the bedside table. Steve sits up, watching as his entire body coils; she opens her mouth to ask what's wrong, but the door suddenly bursts open. 

And it all goes to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, and it's going in a different direction than I thought, but I hope you guys like it anyway!!


	14. Chapter 14

The smoke clears from the blast while Bucky is in the process of trying to shove Steve into the tiny bathroom; his mouth turns down in confusion when his gaze lands on a small, red, flying drone hovering a few feet off the ground.

" _Steve!?_ " Sam Wilson's voice crackles out of the drone in confusion. 

"Sam?" Steve's hand is wrapped tightly around the one pressed against her chest; she had been insisting on him allowing her to fight while he had been trying to protect her. 

The drone turns as if it's looking at Bucky, and the sound of the man cursing crackles over the comm. An electrified net shoots out of the drone and Bucky shoves Steve away while it wraps around his legs. 

He hears Steve shouting his name, her voice high and desperate while the edges of his vision begin to fade. His body convulses and writhes with pain, but Bucky finds himself thankful that at least it's not Hydra who have found them. 

()()

He wakes up in some sort of chamber that has glass and metal on every side. The Arm lays limp, but it's still strapped down as is his other arm. Bucky's heart pounds in panic, but he forces it to calm so he can rationally _think_. 

Bucky is brought out of his semi-meditation by the purposeful sound of footsteps. He snaps his eyes up to the source and isn't surprised to see Natalya standing on the other side of the glass. 

She's older but more relaxed; Bucky is glad to see she still doesn't show any of her weaknesses even as she stands before him in casual clothing. A small considering frown tilts at the corners of her bright red mouth. Bucky stares right back. "...sorry I shot you." 

Natalya's mouth twitches briefly. "What time are you referring to?" She gracefully sits on a chair he hadn't realized was there and folds her hands in her lap. 

Bucky rolls a shoulder in a shrug, faking casual but then his gaze sharpens. "Where's the girl." It's more of a demand than a question, and he's relieved to see a ghost of a smile working over Natalya's mouth. 

"She's safe...and currently giving Wilson a verbal smack down. Tony's even afraid to go in there." 

Bucky lets out a breath he wasn't aware of holding and then looks down at his bound arms. "Let her go, Natalya...she has nothing to do with any of this." 

Natalya sighs and leans back in her chair. She's giving him a long look again, the dark of her eyes scanning over him in a way that makes him want to twitch. "Who is she?" 

Bucky purses his lips and narrows his eyes in a "Let her go." The woman and the young girl he had trained all those years ago are superimposed over top of each other; his head pounds behind his eyes and all he wants to do is leave with Steve in tow and hide out in their small apartment. 

Natalya blinks slowly, her posture a ballet dancer's perfection. "We've already offered for her to leave but she refused...she said she wasn't going anywhere without you." Amusement colors the woman's words while Bucky has to bite down on the curses he wants do shout. 

Wonderful, stubborn, _stupid_ punk. 

"Are you planning on putting me in prison?" Bucky's heart lurches at the thought of being confined; his flesh hand curls into a fist and sweat mists over his forehead. Surely the people Natalya has allied herself with have cryo-tanks where they'll just put him back into; the thought is both a comfort and panic inducing. 

He won't get to see Steve again. 

Natalya scans him once more and she shakes her head minutely. "Well, that depends on how you answer." She unfolds her hands and presses them flat against her jean-clad thighs. "The Avengers have...struck a deal, of sorts, with the UN and the United States secretary of defense that if you agree to join us and be under our supervision, then they'll give you leniency."

Bucky's lol curls in a slight snarl and he laughs bitterly. "So what, I'll be on a tight leash jus as I was with Hydra?" His fist is shaking, and his head pounds till he's seeing spots. "Are you gonna brainwash me the same as they did too?" 

Natalya purses her lips and looks away from his accusing glare. "You broke through your programming and helped reveal what SHIELD truly was...you saved _thousands_ of lives." Her eyes snap back to his, and she speaks levelly. "Don't let that rot in a prison cell, you're a hero."

"Don't call me that." Bucky sucks in a large breath of air and releases it loudly. He slumps in his seat and stares at his faint reflection in the glass. "I'll answer to my crimes...but I don't want to be observed like an animal. Not again."

He closes his eyes and allows his head to fall forward. "Please, let me see Steve."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally saw CW. 
> 
> Uuuuugh


	15. Chapter 15

Steve is furious. 

No, not just furious, she's down right wrathful. 

Sam is keeping a level head while she rages at him, pacing around in a comfortable office with too many fucking windows while Bucky is locked up somewhere. He's probably panicking...Steve's heart clenches at that, and she all but falls into one of the over plush office chairs. 

Sam purses his lips and looks down at his folded hands. "I'm sorry." He says on the end of a long breath, and Steve wants to fucking cry. She rubs angrily at the tears beginning to cling to her eyelashes and glowers up at the man. 

He's in the fucking _Avengers_. 

"No, you don't get to apologize. Not about this." She sees a muscle in Sam's jaw jump; he's trying to keep calm, but she can see the swirl of righteous anger in his eyes, and she knows he's itching to yell at her too. 

Good. 

"You didn't tell me that you were harboring a _war criminal_ , Steve!" Sam slaps his hands onto the glass table, his posture ramrod straight. 

"I didn't know that when I took him in! And anyway, it _wasn't_ his fault, he was fucking _brainwashed_ by the same people who you--apparently--used to work for." Sam runs a hand down his face and glares at her from around his fingers. 

"I didn't join until after SHIELD was down..." He sounds so tired, and lets his hand drop. "Actually...I kinda helped."

Steve lets out a loud bark of laughter and crosses her arms tight over her chest. "Oh, okay. So what, you've been flyin' around and kickin' down secret governments...and you're mad at _me_ for helping someone?" 

"The man is an ex-assassin, Steve!" Steve's glare intensifies and she clenches her jaw. He sighs again and stands. "I'm gonna let you cool off."

Steve looks away from him, blinking away angry tears because this was fucking ridiculous, and hears the sound of something paper being set onto the table. "Please just...read this, and don't do anything stupid."

The door to the office closes with barely a whisper; there is a moment of tense silence while Steve attempts to glare holes into the glass windows and then she turns to see what Sam had left. 

It's a fairly thick dark red folder with a large star on it; scrawled over to top of the star in blocky handwriting Steve doesn't recognize is: _The Winter Soldier Project_

()()

Tears fall onto the 70 year old paper, running the ink and smudging graphite diagrams. Steve's hands are shaking as she reads about the atrocities committed by Hydra...and by Bucky. 

She reminds herself that he wasn't in his right mind, gaze skimming over the section of the failed 'breeding program' Hydra tried in the late '80s. Her stomach rolls and she quickly flips over a page that has a grainy security camera still of Bucky--the Winter Soldier--executing someone one the side of the road. 

"It's a pretty depressing read, if I do say so." Steve jumps at the sound of the voice coming from behind her. She turns and her eyebrows raise to her hairline as Tony Stark swans into the office as if he owns it (which, he actually might). 

Stark holds out a hand for her to shake, a cocky/charming smile curling up the corners of his mouth. 

(Steve thinks that Stark's smile doesn't have the same effect as Bucky's in the old photograph tapped to the inside of the file). 

"Tony Stark--"

"I know who you are." Steve glances down at his offered hand and doesn't sneer at it like she wants to. Instead she curls her arms right around the file held close to her chest. 

Stark allows his arm to flop to his side and he purses his lips in a small frown of irritation. He looks very tired behind his rose colored sunglasses, but Steve doesn't remark upon that and instead watches as he sits across from her with a grace only possessed by high society. 

"So!" Stark claps his hands and suddenly the weariness Steve had noticed seconds ago is gone, like turning a switch. His teeth are very white when he offers her a dazzling smile. "We're offering you a get outta jail free card, blondie. You can go back to your life and Barnes'll seem like a bad dream...I can even sweeten the deal for you." He looks over his sunglasses, gaze calculating as it scans over her. Though he's the 'playboy millionaire', Stark is still a genius. "How about two million?" 

Steve knows what that sort of money could buy her. It could have her going back to school debt free, could put her up in a nice place in a nice part of town, could pay off every medical bill she's ever had. She'd be set for life...

A deep scowl crosses over her mouth. "What the hell? You're actually expecting me to...to sell Bucky out?" 

Stark blinks in surprise; he leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together as he gives her another once over. "...he has a nickname?" He murmurs softly, almost too softly for Steve to hear him. Stark frowns and leans back closer to her, brown eyes burning from behind his sunglasses. "Look, blondie--"

"It's _Steve_."

Stark's scowl deepens and he rolls his eyes. " _Steve_ , just because you've formed some sort of attachment to Barnes doesn't change what's in that file. He's murdered _hundreds_ of people, and a little crush doesn't magically make those people live again."

Steve slams the file onto the table and stands; her legs are shaking, whether it's because of the anger bubbling inside of her or because she hasn't eaten since the morning before, she doesn't know. "I _know_ that, I'm not an idiot. But you have to realize that it wasn't him...not really. Stark, please," she deflates a little and presses the heel of her hand against one eye to attempt to stave off the headache forming. "Bucky didn't hurt anyone when he was with me. Whatever...programming that Hydra forced on him, he broke through it." 

Stark stares at her, dark brows furrowed in consideration. Steve stares right back, trying to sway the man with her gaze alone. Finally, after what Steve feels is too long, he lets out a long sigh. "Thing is, bl--Steve, we are considering that." 

Stark waves his hands in an abated gesture before he settles them one glass tabletop. "The Avengers have struck a deal with the United States' Secretary of Defense that Barnes'...status as a POW and the fact that he wasn't in his right mind will be taken into consideration if he agrees to join the team and be under heavy surveillance."

Steve's brows furrow. "...he won't be...you won't do what Hydra did to him? Freeze him like he's some sorta science experiment?" She doesn't trust Stark any more that she can throw him, and even Sam isn't on her side anymore...Steve's hands tighten into fists at the thought and shoves away the anger and sadness. 

Stark's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and he looks a little taken aback. "God no! Look, whatever you may have heard about me, even I'm not that cruel." A slightly offended expression crosses over his face. "What we're offering him is better than prison." 

Steve opens her mouth to retort that even if Bucky was offered a deal, constant observation was still a prison I its own right,but she's interrupted by a light knock. 

The Black Widow, Natasha Romanov, stands casually in the doorway. She looks slightly amused, and her gaze pins Steve to the floor. "Barnes wants to see you." 

()()

Steve follows the woman into an elevator that brings them down down down. She chews at the inside of her cheek, nerves jumping under her skin while Romanov stares ahead. 

"He cares for you." Steve jumps at the woman's clear voice and looks over at her. They're roughly the same height, but while Steve looks tired and haggard (due to not sleeping at all), the Black Widow is incredibly well put together. 

"What?" Romanov looks out of the corner of her eye, gaze assessing the blonde for a few agonizing seconds. 

"Barnes cares about you." She pauses and then turns to fully face Steve. "I want you to remember something: he's dangerous, no matter how much affection he might for you." 

Steve wants to deny that would ever happen, but she thinks to the red file and can hear the understanding of first hand experience laced around the Widow's words. "You knew him...before all this." 

A small sad smile curls over Romanov's immaculate red mouth. She looks away from Steve's probing gaze. "I was protecting a diplomat and our cars tires were shot out. When I tried to cover my charge, I knew who it was that blew out my tires...he shot right through me to get to his target." She lifts the hem of her shirt to reveal a scarred over bullet wound; Steve winces while Romanov lets out a little laugh and drops her shirt. "Bye bye bikini season." 

Despite herself, Steve says, "Yeah, I bet you look _terrible_ in them." 

The elevator slows to a stop and the doors open with a near silent whoosh. Romanov doesn't step out like Steve expected her to, but gives her a nod. "If anything happens, I'll be down here quickly." 

Steve thinks she makes a sound of affirmation, but she's too busy staring at the...thing they have Bucky inside. 

She scrambles up to it, hands going up to touch the glass when Bucky barks out a harsh: "Don't!" Backing away, Steve stares at him with wide eyes while he seems to deflate. He doesn't look at her. "The glass has an electric current going through it...I didn't want you getting hurt."

Steve's eyes mist with tears, but she allows them to fall. The day has been stressful and emotionally draining; Bucky's gaze shoot up to her face while she furiously rubs at the tears falling from her eyes. She hates that she's crying in front of him, especially as she watches his face crumble slightly. "God damn...Bucky, I'm sorry, so fucking sorry..." 

Bucky releases a long sigh; he tries to lean toward her, but she watches a pained expression cross over his face at the action. "Don't cry Steve, please...you didn't do anything." He clenches his jaw. "I'm sorry I dragged you into all this."

Steve steps as close as she can without touching the glass; she studies him for a few minutes, trying to memorize his face because she doesn't know..."I talked to Stark," Steve watches Bucky's lips tilt down in a small frown. There's a flash of realization that sparks in his grey blue eyes. She swallows thickly. "I think...I think you should take that deal." 

His expression flits through a series of expressions. First, shock, then anger and sadness; he purses his lips, and there is an undercurrent of panic that crosses over his face. "I can't." She sees his flesh hand tighten into a fist. "What about you? What if Hydra...what if they find you?" 

Steve blinks and more tears fall from her eyes. She smiles though she really just wants to curl up somewhere and cry. "I'm no one special, they wouldn't bother me." 

"Don't say that!" They both jolt at his out burst, but Bucky quickly scowls and looks her in the eye. "You're special to _me_. I'd do...I'd do anything to protect you." 

Steve's heart lurches painfully at his proclamation, and knows that what she has to do is for the best. Swallowing down more tears, Steve sucks in a deep breath. "Then do this for me, Buck. I don't wanna see you locked up in some prison; help the Avengers." She tries to smile, but it feels wrong on her mouth. She does it anyway. "I mean, it's not like we'll never see each other again." 

Bucky stares at her for a long time; Steve does the same, heart pounding almost painfully in her chest while tears continue to run down her cheeks. "...okay." He says this so softly that she almost doesn't hear him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch, that's gotta hurt!
> 
> We're nearing the end of the fic, but I have a sequel in mind 


	16. Chapter 16

_**CAPTAIN AMERICA'S RETURN?**_

_**CAN THE WORLD TRUST JAMES BARNES?** _

_**"BLACK WIDOW" TO GIVE STATEMENT AT BARNES' TRIAL.** _

_**PROTESTORS RALLEY FOR BARNES. #freethesoldier** _

_**BRAIN WASHING OR TRESON?** _

_**UNITED STATES PRESIDENT TO PARDON JAMES BARNES.** _

_**THE WINTER SOLDIER JOINS THE AVENGERS: RISKY MOVE?** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a chapter per se, but it's kind of a time skip thing. I'll be updating with a for real chapter soon.


	17. Chapter 17

It's been almost a year since he...'joined' the Avengers and he hasn't spoken to Steve once. 

They've made sure to keep Bucky under constant supervision, and while he knows that's part of the deal in order to keep him out of prison (even though he was pardoned...even though he feels like they shouldn't have bothered) it still grates on his nerves. 

He's stuck in Stark Tower when they're not on missions, and even if he were to go out, he's become a household name once more. 

At least in the '40s people didn't know he was a murderer. 

_It wasn't you. You didn't have any control._ A voice that sounds suspiciously like Steve's reminds him again and again. Bucky sighs, wishing he could believe that.

He doesn't interact with the other Avengers much, which while he's fine with it, there's always a small niggling of loneliness somewhere in the back of his mind. He doesn't want to talk to _them_ though. 

Natalya ( _Natasha_ he's supposed to call her now, but that just seems wrong so he doesn't) tries to get him to socialize but he ignores her. Stark constantly bothers him about the Arm, but he hides away in places where the tower's AI is the only one who's able to find him. 

Really the only ones he can stand to talk to for an extended period of time are Wanda and Clint. Wanda doesn't push him into trying to make friends, relating to him in a way because she knows what it's like to have people be afraid of her. Clint had sat down and told him he knew what it was like to have someone in his head, controlling his actions and then left it at that. 

Bucky likes them but they're not...

They're not _Steve_. 

He avoids Sam the most because the man is still in contact with Steve even after she found out about his joining the Avengers. Bucky reasons that if he were to ask Sam how Steve was, he wouldn't be able to keep himself away from her and then he'd be tossed in cyrofreeze because he overstepped his bounds. 

He needs to remain in the tower not only to keep himself out of trouble, but to keep the blonde safe. 

It feels like a shitty excuse when he repeats it like a mantra, but Bucky knows he's grasping at straws to keep some sort of semblance of sanity. 

"You wanna go get something to eat?" Clint walks into his room without knocking; he's fiddling with his hearing aid, making faces while the other hand holds a pot of coffee. 

Bucky frowns softly, thinks of the looks he and the archer will get, thinks of the hatred in people's eyes when he passes. 

(He doesn't think about asking Clint if they'd be able to go to Brooklyn, to the little diner where Steve works only to see if she was _okay_ ). 

"No, thank you." Bucky turns his gaze away from Clint; the man purses his lips for a fraction of a second, but then he lets out a soft sigh. 

"Alright, I'll ask Wanda." 

Bucky knows he's being difficult, but he can't bring himself to care. He's saving people now, but he feels like he's gone back to being a machine that just completes mission after mission. 

He doesn't feel human anymore. 

()()

Bucky looks anywhere but Stark as the man fixes his arm after a mission. He had punched through a cement wall that was lined with steel rods and ended up breaking a few of the metal fingers. 

Stark was almost giddy when Bucky reluctantly came to him about repairs, and he hasn't stopped talking a mile a minute as his deft hands flutter over the Arm. "We can put a comm in here so you can stay connected to Friday--"

"No." Stark huffs loudly. 

"At least let me--" 

"No. Just fix it like it was." Stark swallows down any snippy response he may have had and glowers down at Bucky's fingers. 

He really can't bring himself to care, and when the repairs are done, he thanks the man stiffly and returns to his room. 

()()

Sam bursts into his room with a grim look on his face as Bucky is cleaning his collection of rifles. He sees the man's expression and knows that the only reason outside of a mission Sam would willingly come to him is because of--

He nearly stops breathing. 

"What happened?" His metal fingers clench tightly and he stands. 

"Trouble." Sam jerks his head toward the door. "Steve's missing...I think you need to take a look at this." 

Ice runs through his veins, and he follows Sam to where there is a large screen, a video paused on it. The other Avengers are gathered around, expressions matching Sam's; Stark glances at Bucky and clears his throat. 

"It's...addressed to you."

The video is played; Steve glowers at the camera, tape messily placed over her mouth while a large bruise causes her eye to swell almost shut. She doesn't struggle against her bindings, and her posture is ramrod straight. Bucky's stomach turns, guilt washing over him as surely as his anger does. 

This is what he wanted to prevent. 

There is no sound, but Bucky watches as a dark figure paces behind Steve before a black handgun presses against her cut temple. Her eyes widen; he wonders what they are asking her, watches as she jerks away from the press of the gun, blue eyes filled with righteous fury. 

The video goes black, but the sharp bang of a gun going off drops something cold and murderous in Bucky's gut. Hydra's signature octopus scrawls over the dark backdrop. He doesn't realize that he's gripping the table until a loud crack reverberates through the air. 

"When did you get this." He stares at the dark screen, voice low. 

Stark scowls, fiddling with something on one of his tablets. "Ten minutes before Sam went and got you." 

His rage, bottled up for over 70 years begins to crack and hiss from him until Bucky has turned away and is stalking down the hall. 

They allow him a head start before following.


	18. Chapter 18

_Six Months Earlier_

Steve is dropped off at her apartment hours after she had told Bucky to join the Avengers. Logically, she knows that it's better for him to be with them but her heart says otherwise. 

Sam is the one that had dropped her off, and when he turns to leave, Steve takes one look inside her dark apartment (at the little space Bucky had made his own, at the cups forgotten the night before they went to DC still sitting on the coffee table) and says: "Don't go."

She and Sam have a very long talk, and she decides that even though she was still upset with him, Steve decided that it was better to let go of some of her anger. 

"You know shit's gonna hit the fan once we go public with him joining, right?" Sam gives her a level stare, his dark eyes scanning her tear streaked face while his thumb rubs soothing circles over her knuckles. 

"It's not like _I_ could do anything to prevent that." Steve gnaws on the inside of her cheek, wincing at the taste of blood when she bites down too hard. Sam lets out a long sigh. 

"I know...just, I'm warning you." 

()()

It's a month later when Steve is working at the diner when there's a breaking news bulletin. She looks up and has to stifle a gasp when she sees Bucky staring back at the camera; someone (an older man who wears a _WWII Veteran_ hat and always calls Steve 'ma Cherie' with his faded accent) yelps out a: "Holy _shit_!" 

Across the bottom scrolls: _**CAPTAIN AMERICA RETURNS?**_

Steve sees the distress plain as day on Bucky's face as reporters shoot question after question at him. She feels sick. 

()()

Steve watches Bucky's trial, watches as his character is dragged through the ringer. She knows some of what he went through because of the red file, but when the Black Widow takes the stand and relays her side of the story, the Red Room and all the horrors that entailed, Steve takes to the Internet and to the streets. 

She's joined by other like minded people, protesting against the treatment of those effected by Hydra. She screams out "Free the Soldier!" until her lungs almost give out and her throat burns. 

She's shocked when it goes viral and her angry face is plastered over every major news magazine. 

"They should've executed that traitor when they had a chance." Steve doesn't drop the tray on the customer like she wants. The other man snorts loudly and leans back, glaring up at the tv which shows the result of Bucky's trial: not guilty. 

"Prolly gonna go rogue an' start killin' the supers, then where will we be?" Steve sets the man's coffee cup down with a little too much force, causing him to look up at her with an annoyed expression. "Watch what you're doin', lady! Hey, do I know you?"

"I don't think so."

She retreats to the back room so they don't see her shaking hands. 

()()

Steve tries not to ask Sam how Bucky's doing because if she does, there's a chance that she'll want to see him. 

She lets out a long sigh and stares out of her apartment window, the tv turned onto the news. Thankfully things have died down since the trial, and Steve hasn't seen her face plastered on any thing else. 

There's a knock at her front door; she frowns at the clock that reads 10 pm and stands to go answer it. It might be one of her elderly neighbors who need help with something...

The door bursts open with a bang. Steve lets out a surprised yelp when light suddenly flashes and she's pushed down to the ground. Spots invade her vision, and a confused scream tumbles past her lips when her arms are wrenched behind her back; her chin digs into her floor, and there's the taste of fresh blood on her teeth. 

There are men in dark fatigues storming her apartment, pointing guns and checking the rooms. "Clear." They each bark, the soft blip of a walkie-talkie indicating that's how they're communicating with one another. 

Heavy black boots thud into Steve's view, stopping an inch from her nose until she's being lifted by her hair, causing her to let out a wordless cry of pain. She comes face to face with a mask that's in the shape of a silver skull and plants a wide, bloodstained smile on her face. "I didn't...didn't know it was Halloween already." 

The man in the mask nods once to the person who's holding Steve by her hair. She chokes down a gasp of pain when the person yanks back, ripping a few strands out. Her head is shoved back forward, and she glowers at the masked man. "Sorry I don't have any candy for you freaks." 

The man sighs, the noise distorted due to the metal on his face, and swiftly backhands Steve across the face. She feels her teeth dig into her cheek, the force of the impact causing her head to vibrate with pain. She grits her jaw, years of getting into back alley fights teaching her that making noise only prompted bullies further. 

"Where is he?" The man asks, heavy fingers clamping down on her chin and lifting her head. Steve glares into the eyes she can see in the mask's slits; hatred weighs heavily in her heart because these men were obviously Hydra. 

"Fuck off." Pain explodes over her face as she's punched, the man's fingers like stone as they grind into her bone. Steve feels her mouth filling with blood, and she's fairly certain her nose is broken. 

"The Soldier, where is he?" The man is infuriatingly calm, but she can begin to hear anger seeping into his tone. 

"Obviously not here, or else you and your crack team woulda found him." She grunts when a heavy fist slams into her stomach; stars erupt behind her eyes, and her hearing is beginning to get echoey. "Why d-don't you check the fucking Avenger's Tower?" Steve sucks down a breath and looks back up at the man in the mask with a sweet smile that shows too much teeth. "Wait, don't tell me: you guys are afraid you're gonna get your asses handed to ya, right?" 

She's punched again and allowed to drop to the floor. A heavy boot is pressed down on the middle of her back to prevent her from leaving; Steve tries to catch her breath while the men around her begin to trash her apartment. "Sir, it looks like he was here for a while." There's a man digging through the tiny dresser she had gotten for Bucky to store his things; the clothes are obviously too big for her to wear. 

The man in the mask sits down on her couch, legs spread out and relaxed. He considers her with calculating eyes. "You obviously feel something for the Asset--"

"He's not an asset, he's a human being!" Steve makes a noise that's a cross between a groan and a screech of pain when someone grinds their heel into her back. 

The man in the mask shrugs a large shoulder. "Not yet, but you're gonna help me get him back." He gestures with a hand , and Steve is wrenched up and shoved toward a kitchen chair. The man takes out a dark gun and something that looks like a cell phone. "Let's send 'im a message."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will happen next!? Find out in the sequel coming soon. ;)


End file.
